Small Town Grudge

How do you tell a sweet old Dominican nun that her nephew is the Antichrist? This is the kid who ridiculed my newly acquired driving skills on an 8-hr trip to Canada, pawed through my backpack, and told my friends I was a loser. He was my little brother's best friend from 5th to 8th grade, but they parted ways in high school at about the same time when a hate club for the highly conservative, bigoted sleazeball began to form. The club still exists as a Facebook group, but its members have dispersed from our small town and have little reason to remain an official operation except as revenge for bitter memories. I, on the other hand, must now face the fact that he lurks in the hallways of my small, small college. When Sister asked if I knew him, I nodded, gritted my teeth, and smiled. Thank God he's not a psychologist or a writer.